057 This feels different now! (Please add to your favorites)
“Whoa, why does it feel different?”
“Yeah, this feeling is really a bit unusual.”
For a moment, both on and off the stage, in the livestream, everyone was enveloped in an unprecedented sense of enjoyment.
Although the song “Mountains, Waters, Wind, Moon” had circulated online for ten years, hearing it performed live now still brought an indescribable shock.
In a daze, everyone felt as if they had entered a place both dreamlike and ethereal.
On stage, the silhouette moving in the darkness seemed almost like a fairy, approaching slowly, untouched by even a speck of dust.
Even the air seemed filled with freshness.
“Hey—hey yo hey—these mountains—hey yo hey—”
“Up at dawn—time for work—”
“People—moon—walking together—”
On the dim stage, the woman’s voice soared, bright yet crisp, sounding as if it truly echoed from deep within the mountains.
Though she stood right there onstage, for a moment, many felt as if she were elusive.
“Damn!”
“No way.”
“Is this Su Yunjin’s voice?”
“The lyrics are exactly the same, but this…”
Stunned.
The audience was stunned.
The contestants were stunned.
The backstage crew was stunned.
The viewers in the livestream were even more shocked.
Ever since this song was released, everyone could only listen to it online. In the beginning, many had tried their own covers.
No matter how well-crafted the stage effects, something always felt lacking.
But now, the entire stage seemed alive, Su Yunjin’s singing radiating a natural purity, unmarred by any distortions, each note resonating perfectly.
And the same lyrics, when sung by Su Yunjin, possessed a lively spirit; every word, every note held an enigmatic hue.
People were curious about the source, as if, though she stood onstage, the origin of the voice was in question.
In the audience, whispers passed among the crowd.
Onstage, Wang Tao, Shao Xinghui, Gao Linlin, Zhang Yingcai, and Tan Zhigao all widened their eyes in astonishment. Those with musical knowledge, like Shao Xinghui, audibly drew in sharp breaths.
The comment stream was relentless.
Everyone’s eyes were fixed on Su Yunjin.
No one noticed Lu Yiqing’s unsettled face by the backstage monitor, his expression shifting restlessly, his gaze dark and brooding in the shadows.
“The sun rises—rosy clouds fill the sky—”
“Those up early—head into the mountains—”
“Spirit of the mountain, open your eyes—grant a bountiful harvest to the diligent—”
“He lo lo lo... he lo lo lo...”
As the crowd immersed themselves in Su Yunjin’s song, another voice rang out from the stage—it was Tan Linfang.
Previously, before Su Yunjin’s arrival, Tan Linfang’s singing had indeed amazed many. But now, her voice startled everyone from their reverie, like a large hand waking them from a dream.
“What’s going on?”
“How can there be such a difference?”
“It’s just loud, with no emotion at all.”
“It’s not just emotionless—her singing is simply lackluster.”
Even those who knew nothing of music could hear the contrast.
Su Yunjin’s singing seemed magical; one could sense the briskness of mountain mornings, the simplicity of its people.
Her voice carried the breeze, the sunlight, the birdsong, and the fragrance of wildflowers.
Tan Linfang’s singing, by contrast, was like a blade—only loud, devoid of feeling.
If Su Yunjin’s voice was a fairy descending gracefully, Tan Linfang’s was that of a coarse mountain dweller.
“The morning sets the day, the year’s best seasons ahead, the hardworking all head up the mountain—”
After Tan Linfang finished, Su Yunjin’s voice rose again, this time lighter and quicker, with a lazy undertone woven in.
Onstage, the background transformed into a lush forest, trees bathed in the dawn’s golden light.
Su Yunjin stood among the trees, golden rays illuminating her; with a basket on her back, she looked refreshingly pure.
Suddenly, she produced an ancient, bluish-green, wave-patterned instrument from her hand, gently tapping it with a small mallet.
Ding ding dong dong—the sound of flowing water blended with the background music, once again evoking tranquility.
But this was only momentary.
Soon, Tan Linfang’s voice broke in again.
Pulled once more from that enchanting song, all eyes now focused on the instrument in Su Yunjin’s hands.
“What is that?”
“Is that a qing?”
“Can’t be, it’s so thin!”
“Did you see? There are patterns carved into it!”
In the livestream, many discussed the ancient “qing” in Su Yunjin’s hands.
In modern music, the use of a qing is almost extinct, with the only surviving examples found in temple rituals.
But those are mainly used for bell-like tones at the start, whereas Su Yunjin’s instrument produced flowing water sounds with a simple stroke—rarely seen.
Viewers were curious.
The audience was curious.
The contestants, unfamiliar with it, buzzed with speculation.
At that moment, the cameraman, as if reading everyone’s mind, zoomed in for a close-up.
Under the lens, Su Yunjin’s ancient qing was revealed—a piece resembling a blackish-blue wave board.
Intricately carved patterns adorned the wave board, mysterious and difficult to decipher. As Su Yunjin sang, she stroked it up, down, left, and right.
It seemed every spot, every inch of the wave board could produce a distinct sound.
Striking it yielded the deep, resonant tones of a temple bell; sweeping across it evoked flowing water; tapping above or below brought bird-like chirps.
“Whoa, is that a qing?”
“It looks like it, but I’ve never seen one like this.”
As viewers debated, suddenly an ID named “X Collector” posted a streamer comment in the chat:
“How much is that? I’m willing to pay a high price to acquire it!!”
This streamer comment startled many viewers.
Before anyone could react, another streamer comment followed: “X Collector, dreaming, are you? The few coins in your pocket won’t buy a thing!! The lowest market price for this is a hundred million RMB, understood?”
Nowadays, scams abound and boasting is common.
Normally, such streamer comments wouldn’t cause much stir, but the second comment came from an ID named “National Antiquities Museum.”